


A Lifetime Of Memories

by articcat621, EliMorgan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, Marriage Law Challenge, Professor Hermione Granger, Reminiscing, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-03-01 02:08:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18790852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/articcat621/pseuds/articcat621, https://archiveofourown.org/users/EliMorgan/pseuds/EliMorgan
Summary: When a History of Magic lecture that should have been run-of-the-mill turns personal, Hermione takes a journey down memory lane.





	A Lifetime Of Memories

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Hermione's Haven's #RollAPartner19. This was a collaborative piece of work created by two authors. Enjoy.
> 
> Prompt: A retired esteemed scholar Hermione Malfoy nee Granger is asked to take over the History of Magic class at Hogwarts. Sometime during the school year she is to deliver a lecture to 7 year class about Marriage Law ( which was banned 40 years ago). While delivering the lecture she recalls her marriage who was initiated by the marriage law. This lecture triggers an avalanche of memories the bad ones from the beginning and the good ones from later.
> 
> Many thanks to our beta for her assistance with this fic.
> 
> Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

The last line was scrawled out, the final 'i' dotted, the 't's crossed definitively. She'd reread it repeatedly, tweaking paragraphs, yanking out whole sections, rewriting others. The final period was blotchy from the force of her quill, the relief in completion manifesting in the spillage of ink.

Still, as she sat at her desk, watching the clock, she couldn't quell the rising anxiety within her.

"You'll be wonderful," her husband assured her, appearing behind the chair, tea in his hands and a soft expression on his face. A familiar sight after so many years; different, for his eyes were narrowed with age, his back crooked, his once-dark hair threaded liberally with iron-grey, but still the same man she'd fallen in love with, the one she'd fought and healed and resented and cherished, her partner in all things. Two children, four grandchildren, several careers and eventual retirement hadn't dimmed the light they'd managed to spark within each other.

"What if I can't do it justice?" she asked, softly, running her fingers over words on paper. "This isn't the Goblin Wars. We lived this. They're the _result_ of this."

"That's exactly why, my dear." He moved behind her, pulling her hair to one side and rubbing her shoulders soothingly. "You're the perfect person for this _because_ you were there. You remember it well, don't you?"

"Like it was yesterday." She twisted her neck to smile at him, and it was a funny sort of smile, fondness and bitter humour and the dregs of years of Ministry-aimed fury. But love. Reluctant gratitude.

He understood all of this, had a matching expression. He kissed her, gently, once. "It's perfect. _You're_ perfect." The clock chimed quietly. "And it's time. I have to see to my third years - but don't stress, Hermione. I believe in you."

He left her with one last kiss, and she sighed as the door closed behind him. Outside her quarters, the sound of children running the halls picked up, the quiet thrum of conversation piercing the walls. Biting her lip, an old habit, she gathered all of her courage and stood before making her way around her desk.

She paused outside of the door to her classroom, one that she had stood in many times, both as student and professor. Taking a deep breath, she entered the classroom, knowing that there was no use in delaying the inevitable.

“Good morning, everyone,” she said, announcing her presence. She made her way to the front of the room towards the podium, her robes swishing around her ankles as she walked.

She stood at the front, looking out over the seventh years before her. Most of them had curious looks on their faces, which she took as a good sign.

“As you all know, the Headmistress has asked me to talk to you all about the previous Marriage Law that was implemented many years ago.” Hermione paused. “My marriage, and most of your grandparents’ marriages, were the result of this Law being passed. My lecture today will be a mixture of history and past experiences, and I hope that you will all take something away from this lecture that will benefit you in your futures.”

All eyes were now firmly on her, and she knew that she had everyone’s attention.

“The reasoning behind the Marriage Law was duel purpose - unity and population. After the defeat of Voldemort many years ago, the wizarding world was in shambles. There was a large decrease in children being born, despite many people thinking that the new peace would result in a baby boom. And despite Voldemort being defeated, prejudice still existed quite firmly within our society.”

Hermione stepped away from the podium, knowing that her notes were there if she needed them.

“The reasoning behind the Law was that it would force people to reconcile their differences and unite the population - as well as lead to an increase in the numbers of wizarding children being born. As you can expect, the Law was met with resistance when it was initially passed, and that could be that there were quite a few flaws.” She paused for dramatic effect.  

"One of the biggest flaws in this Marriage Law could be found in the implementation, which many of us in the population found a great insult. We all, on the whole, like to think of ourselves as individuals - each of us equal, but special in our own, perfect ways. Like you, Miss Malfoy - didn't you break the current world record for broom racing last month? And you, Mr Carter; you read faster than any student I've ever had the pleasure to teach - not faster than me, though.” She winked, and Mr Carter blushed.

“We all have our quirks and our talents, something uniquely us. The Ministry's selection process didn't take any of this into account. In fact, the whole thing was stunningly generic; they claimed, later, that complex arithmancy went into the creation of the so-called 'soul-mate test'. Personally, I think the same thing could have been achieved by letting Rita Skeeter loose with a quill - in fact, it might have been better, for Rita had always been quite personal, while the Ministry receptionist, as I recall, didn't even ask my name…"

* * *

"Take a seat, Miss, and fill this out. We'll get to you."

Hermione received the clipboard she was handed with bad grace, but the receptionist moved on, effectively dismissing her. It was, admittedly, busy that day; the Office of Marital Harmony was chock full of singletons, the air thick with tension. Two Aurors were stationed by the door, and Hermione caught the receptionist's eye straying to them more than once for reassurance.

Institution-beige and lacking in character, this waiting room was reminiscent of Hermione’s idea of purgatory; soulless, dull. The wooden chairs were worn and rickety, the wooden floor scuffed by the passage of hundreds of feet. Waste-paper baskets overflowed onto the floor, but there was barely room to breathe, let alone clean.

In a rush to have the whole population bonded, the Ministry had ordered everyone to present themselves to the office over one two-day period. Looking around, it was clear that some of those waiting had been here since the first day - in one corner a pair of women were playing exploding snap with blank eyes, apparently having forgotten quite why they were here, while in another, a group of business witches filled the room with the impatient tingle of a tempus charm, cast repeatedly and obnoxiously every few minutes. One, a blonde, had an eye fixed on the hapless receptionist, as if she might eat her at any moment - and would if she wasn’t seen soon.

As Hermione moved to sit down, one of them jerked, then stomped off through a door at the back of the room.

Hermione turned to her questions and immediately blanched, marvelling that the others in the room seemed to find no problem with them. Honestly! Why on earth did the Ministry care to know what her favourite colour was, or how she liked to spend her free time? She turned the page, half expecting it to ask whether she was a boxers or briefs woman. Witch Weekly, this was not. Hermione was a woman who had never failed a test, and she would not start now, but this was _ludicrous_.

She ticked the boxes cautiously (briefs in warm weather, boxers in bed), wondering if it was a trick. Perhaps they were reading her magical signature, and the quiz was a red herring? There must be some sort of spell for this - she was sure Parvati had once told her of an ancient Indian ritual used to arrange marriages in her family, and that was just one country. With all the magic in the world, why had they settled for a sheet of parchment?

To add insult to injury, it disappeared in a puff of pink smoke when she was done. She winced. That was a mortifying touch. Did they have Lavender Brown hidden away somewhere, purely for her aesthetic?

Anticipating a wait, Hermione dragged out her latest manuscript for editing. It was due at the publisher's by Friday, and no emergency wedding would deter Luna - that woman could be a harpy when it came to deadlines. Wrapped up in her work, it didn't feel like long before a voice whispered in her ear - _table four_.

Was this speed dating now?

Grumbling under her breath, Hermione went for the door. It opened into another miserable government room lined, this time, with tables, all manned by what seemed to be identical versions of the same person; a person available in all genders but only one colour: a vivid, Calpol pink. Ah, yes, there was Lavender, scowling at one of the clones as Seamus lounged beside her, looking as if he'd won the lottery. Past her, a table with a bright fuchsia '4' waited for Hermione. It was with no small amount of trepidation that she approached.

"Ah, Miss Granger!" Called her clone, male this time. "Come and meet your match!" Hermione tried not to look at him directly for fear of being blinded, giving her 'match' the bulk of her attention - though, if she was honest, he kept it all by himself.

Sat in a chair opposite the smiling advisor was a lanky man with dark hair, about Hermione’s age. He was attractive in that way that men are when they gamble well with puberty; his face lean and sharp, his body firm but not wide. His expression was pinched, but he was polite enough to stand, and Hermione smiled uneasily, trying to place him in her mind. He extended his hand, as if to shake, but instead pulled her close enough to press a chaste kiss - a proper, society kiss that left her skin prickling with awareness - on her cheek.

His scent hadn't changed, and that was how she recognised him - years of work in the library, a few tables away from each other, had imbued him with the scent of old books, laid beneath sharp mint, and a spicier scent she couldn't place.

"Hermione Granger," he said wryly, not releasing her hand when he stepped back. His thumb swept absently along her knuckles, and while she was irritated by the possession in the action, she couldn't deny their immediate connection. "What a surprise."

"Theodore Nott?" Hermione gaped. "You look…"

"Like your next husband?" the advisor chirped up, clearly feeling left out. He guffawed at his own joke, but Hermione didn't hear it over the blood rushing in her ears. The situation crashed down on her, a crushing weight on her lungs, and all she could see were Theo's bland, patient eyes, and the matching commotion hidden behind them.

"Good," she finished, lamely, latching onto his rage, his twinned fear as an anchor to draw her back to earth. He must have sensed this, for his knowing grin had her heart fluttering, and she lost her breath.

If they had nothing else in common, they at least had this moment. That, to Hermione, was inordinately comforting.

* * *

 Hermione revelled in the memory, smiling nostalgically. "We couldn't get married on the day, much as the Ministry should have liked us to. There wasn't enough time. We were given a two week courting period to become acquainted. It was, however, optional. I know of couples who used these weeks to great success - your grandparents, Mr Finnegan, for one - but others decided to take the plunge directly." Hermione paused, then admitted, regretfully, "I was one of those people."

"But, Professor," Mr Finnegan threw his hand up in the air, looking affronted. "What about your wedding? Didn't you want a special day?"

"If you mean birds flying out of cakes and singing cherubs, then no, I can't say I did, even then." Hermione chuckled. "All I ever wanted was a small service: myself, the registrar and the man I loved."

* * *

 Hermione gazed at her reflection, unable to banish the panic from her eyes, however hard she tried. By this time tomorrow, she would be a married lady - bonded, kissed and consummated. A momentous occasion. One she had always thought would be joyous, too.

"You're brooding again," Ginny chastised, smoothing out the fabric of her skirts.

"I think I've earned that right," Hermione snapped back, but her voice was curiously empty. "Aren't you? This is wrong."

Ginny seemed to be hiding her face as she knelt down to fix Hermione’s hem. "It could be worse, Hermione. Here you are, marrying a bloke who likes you. He's handsome and sweet and thoughtful - thoughtful enough to send his house-elves over with his mother's wedding dress so that you might wear it for him."

"And that's not strange?" Hermione demanded, ignoring how her heart softened, as it had when she'd opened the note - _please, do me the honour of wearing this gown when you become my wife? It's what she would have wanted -_ and each time after that when she looked too closely at this nigh celestial confection of diamonds and lace. "He doesn't know me."

Ginny shrugged, standing up to brush non-existent creases from Hermione’s shoulders. "Pragmatic Slytherins. You're to be his wife; he wants a connection with you. Even Malfoy is courting me, as much as he hates it."

"Oh, Ginny!" Hermione turned to her friend, arms outstretched to offer consolation, but Ginny stopped her with a stern look.

"I'm not going to cry about it, and certainly not on that dress. Now, just through that door is a man who _wants_ to marry you, and you’re keeping him waiting! Are you a Gryffindor or aren't you, Granger?"

She was shaking; she realised as she followed Ginny to the door. Trembling waves crested over her, sending her limbs into spasm. Could she really do this? Theo had been lovely to her since their first meeting, though their interactions had been mainly over owl, but while she had become fond of him, was he really the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with? He'd thrown himself into this, for he'd always assumed his marriage would be arranged, but Hermione had always assumed she'd marry for love rather than breeding.

She felt Ginny's hand slide into hers, administering a comforting squeeze.

 _I am a Gryffindor,_ she scolded herself when her steps stuttered, but it wasn't those words that had her moving - it was the look upon Theo's face when he spotted her; dumbstruck, desirous. A feminine power rose from dormancy within her, and she was somehow able to put one foot in front of the other, making her way to him, a flush reddening her skin.

"I knew you would look beautiful in that," Theo murmured, quietly, as the registrar beamed at them. Hermione couldn't help a shy smile back when he took her hand.

Theo held her eyes through the ceremony, his clasp of her hand strong and unfaltering as the registrar bound their wrists. When the ropes flashed gold, signifying the strength of their bond, his eyes flared wide and speculative, curious; she had an image of the pair of them ransacking the library, desperate to figure out what it meant. It made her smile, then grin wider when he reciprocated - her handsome, intellectual _husband_.

In deference to Hermione's roots, the registrar, finishing his blurb, cleared his throat.

"Mr Nott, you may now kiss your bride."

His tone was thick with disapproval at the gesture, but Hermione hardly noticed, for Theo's face suddenly looked large in her vision. Stormy eyes,  patrician nose, soft, expectant lips--

It was a ghost of a kiss, barely contacting; a seductive caress of the air rather than anything more, and it drew a noise from her throat, she was pressing up on her tiptoes before she caught herself. Opening her eyes, she caught him watching her with yet more speculation in his own; this speculation, however, sent a thrill down her spine.

For the first time, she found herself considering their wedding night - the pleasure, rather than the mechanics - and they weren't the sort of thoughts you'd find in a book.

Not _her_ books, anyway.

* * *

 "Professor Nott!"

One of her students, Natalia, raised their hand high, interrupting her current line of thought. Hermione paused, smiling. "Yes, Miss Flint?"

"Did the two of you argue a lot since you were basically forced to marry?"

Hermione considered the question. The longer she spoke, the more she found her lecture was turning into a Q and A session.

"When two people are forced together in any type of situation, it can be difficult. You find yourself in a position where you have to work with someone for some type of reason, be it marriage or even a school group assignment, and you not only have to figure out how to make things work, but you're also learning about the other person. How they work. What they like. What they don't like. It's a moment of confusion, and it can certainly lead to frustration on both you and your partner's part, but it's how you respond to those moments of frustration that matters."

"What do you mean?" Natalia asked.

"What I mean, Miss Flint, is that what truly matters is how you react and conduct yourself during those moments of frustration. Do you lash out at your partner? Do you compromise? How you manage your emotions is very important within any relationship you have in your life, even with your friends and family."

Hermione thought back to her first fight with Theo, her heart now aching at the thought. She did not handle the situation with finesse… Neither of them did, to be frank...

* * *

 "I've got great news," Theo announced, joining Hermione at the kitchen table for dinner.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, curious as to what could have gotten him so excited.

"I've been assigned a case in the States, we leave in two days, and we'll be gone for three weeks. I've been begging for this case." Theo dug into his food. "I figured we could make it into a type of honeymoon – do some sightseeing while we're there."

Hermione looked at Theo, eyes wide. "Theo…" she began softly. When he didn't pause in his eating, she said his name a little firmer. "Theo."

"What?" he asked, looked at her. When he saw the look on her face, he paused, putting his fork down. "What's wrong?"

"I have a trip next week, and I'm nearly done with the revisions on my book," Hermione said carefully.

"Can't your book wait? And I'm sure your publisher wouldn't mind if you reschedule your trip."

"I don't want to push back my project, Theo," Hermione said, shaking her head. "I'm not going to go with you on your trip."

"But you're my wife," Theo said quietly.

Hermione scoffed. "Yes, Theo, I'm your wife, but I'm also my own person. I'm not going to put my life on hold to go on your business trip as a tagalong." She knew this conversation would come up sooner or later. Deep down, and while she knew Theo would deny it, she also knew that he was raised with the expectations that he would have a pureblood wife – someone who would fall into line at his command. Hermione, however, was not that witch.

"You're just not going to come, then?" Theo asked.

"I'm not dropping everything for a business trip that we can maybe have one day to ourselves on," Hermione told him firmly. "You know how hard I've been working on finishing my book. I'm so close to the end, how can you even ask me to pause that?"

"Because I want you to come with me," Theo said. He picked up his fork and resumed eating.

"But what about what I want?" Hermione asked, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. She could tell that he was angry, and she was angry at him for being angry.

"We'll just go on our separate trips," Theo's curt answer hurt her more than she wanted to admit.

With a huff, Hermione stormed from the room. She'd be sleeping in the guest room of their flat that night.

* * *

 “Now, as I was saying earlier, communication with your partner is key for a successful relationship.” Hermione continued her speech, making it no more than a few phrases in before a student in the back raised their hand. Hermione smiled. “Yes, Miss White?”

“The two of you fell in love eventually, right? I mean, obviously you did or else you still wouldn’t be married,” the young Hufflepuff asked.

Hermione cracked a smile. “You are correct, Professor Nott and I are still married, so yes, we did fall in love.” She paused. “If I’m being honest, it happened shortly after our first fight.” In the back of her mind, she could remember it like it was yesterday.

* * *

 "Theo," she murmured, taking in the sight of him. Her eyes unwittingly watered. "I… You're…"

He cracked a smile at her. "I'm home, Hermione."

She closed the book that she was reading and placed it on the coffee table, watching Theo as he dropped his bags on the floor. For the three months that he was gone on his trip, thoughts of Theo had continuously crept into her mind, and now that he was here, standing before her in the flesh, her heart felt as though it were going to burst.  

"I missed you," she admitted quietly. "A lot."

Theo walked towards her, stopping an arm's reach from her. "I feel the same way," he whispered before his lips crashed against hers.

Hermione couldn't even think; she could only feel. She focused on the feel of Theo's chapped lips as she kissed him back passionately. Moving her arms around his neck, she deepened the kiss.

His hands stroked her lower back tenderly as they kissed. He pulled away slightly, flashing her a crooked smile. "Can we move to the bed?"

"Please," she murmured, taking his hand and leading him to their bedroom. Her heart thrummed with happiness as she realised she'd be sleeping in bed with him that night.

Theo surprised her by pulling her into his arms again, kissing her fervently, pushing her back slightly, so they fell on top of the bed together. His fingers found the hem of her tee-shirt, and he slowly lifted it up.

Hermione gasped as she felt his cool fingers graze her stomach. Anticipation fluttered throughout her body.

"I've missed you," he whispered before kissing the sweet spot beneath her ear.

"Me too," Hermione breathed, her voice heavy. "The entire time you were gone, I found myself missing you more than I had anticipated."

He slowly slid his hand down inside her jeans and into her knickers. Theo hummed appreciatively when he slipped his finger between her folds, finding them moist with need. "It certainly seems you've missed me." His grin was wicked.

"Theo," she murmured huskily.

Theo pressed a kiss on her neck. "Shall I assuage that need for you? Did you miss my cock between your thighs?"

"Yessss," Hermione cried out as his finger found her nub. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders as she arched into him. "Theo, please!"

His lips found hers quickly. He kissed her tenderly, but with every passing second, the kiss grew more intense with want.

Hermione's hand slid down his body and grasped his hard member. He groaned in response. "Sweet Merlin, Hermione. Let's get you out of these clothes. I need to see you naked." He pulled her tee-shirt up over her head, revealing her creamy flesh. "Simply beautiful," he said, pressing his face between her breasts.

Hermione moaned in delight as his lips captured one of her nipples. His tongue swirled around the rosy bud as his hands worked on removing her jeans.

"More," she moaned, her hands grabbing his shoulders. "Oh, Theo," she murmured in delight as his fingers moved up and down her slit, tantalising her slowly. "Please," she begged.

"Tell me, Hermione, what is it exactly that you want me to do to you?" he asked her, looking into her eyes intently.

"I want you to make me scream your name, Theo," Hermione said, her eyes full of raw honesty and passion. "I want you to fuck me like you missed me."

His fingers faltered on her clit as she panted and moaned into his ear. He growled in response, quickening his movements. He wanted to see her overcome with passion. Shivering, Theo kissed and teased her neck.

Hermione, who had slowly been reaching her finish, cried out as his teeth scraped her neck. She threw her head back, crying out his name repeatedly as she came.

Theo watched eagerly as she climaxed. "Gods, I missed that," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple.

Hermione, who was still reeling from her orgasm, pulled at Theo's pants. "Take these off. I want you."

Theo shimmied out of his pants before he helped her completely out of hers. He covered her body with his, kissing her.

"Can I be on top?" she asked.

Theo grinned and nodded. She quickly situated herself on top of him.

"So hot," Theo groaned, reaching up to cup her breasts. "Your breasts are perfect."

"Did you miss them?" she teased.

"More than you can imagine," Theo replied, his voice husky with want.

She aligned her entrance over his member before slowly sinking down on him. He groaned at the feeling while Hermione allowed herself to relax. He filled her to the hilt, so when she squirmed a bit, the sensation was almost overwhelming. "Gods, Theo," she whispered breathlessly. Fuck, she missed him.

He looked up at her, his eyes full of want and love. "You're so beautiful."

Hermione felt his words resonate within her heart. The honesty within his eyes stirred her deeply. "Oh, Theo," she moaned, moving up and down on his cock.

He tried to control his breathing, but he couldn't. Within moments, he was panting and crying out her name while his fingers dug into the flesh of her waist. He couldn’t get enough of her.

She tangled her hands into his hair, tugging it roughly. "Oh, Theo!"

"Please, Hermione," he begged, his want evident.

Encouraged by his words and the moans he was making, Hermione increased her speed. She rode them both over the edge and into oblivion.

"Hermione!"

"Theo!"

They both cried out simultaneously.

She collapsed onto him moments later, panting. She had never felt anything so powerful in her entire life. "Theo," she said, quickly finding his lips. The two of them had had sex in the past before, but this time was different.

Theo clutched her to him tightly, kissing her back. "Merlin, Hermione."

They laid on the bed for a few moments, each lost in their own thoughts. The sound of their breathing filled the room.

Eventually, Hermione peered up at him. Once the haze of her orgasm had faded, she had thought about what had just happened. "Theo?" she asked, suddenly feeling the need to tell him.

"What's up, Hermione?" he asked, peering down at her.

"I think I love you," she admitted quietly.

Theo smiled at her. "I think I love you too." He kissed her soundly.

* * *

“Does anyone else have any other questions?” Hermione asked, looking around the room of her students.  When no one asked anything, she continued on with her lecture.

"One of the secondary aims of the Marriage Law, aside from boosting the population, was to entrench the new, more broad-minded governmental agenda into society.

"Perhaps the best example of how the Law facilitated this lies with the Weasley family who, through six unmarried children, managed to pull six very different families into the fold. As someone who has spent many a Sunday with them, I can attest that it was not an easy situation; however, as a historian, I would say that without the Weasley family acting as a focal point during this period, the Law may have had a much more negative effect on the population. Many now refer to the Weasleys as 'the new Blacks', a title which infuriates my best friend and therefore I will continue to use."

Another laugh came from the students, and several of them raised their hands. Hermione eyed them with some amusement; if only she could get them this involved when it came to the Goblin Wars!

"What about blood purity, Professor?" one child asked, curiously. "That's what the war was about, wasn't it? Wouldn't people have been angry, having to marry half-bloods and muggle-borns?"

"Indeed they were," Hermione grimaced. "Very much so. But that was more an issue of the older generation, and they were not as involved. The bitterness, for the most part, seemed to go away after they saw their children happily settled…"

* * *

"What are you looking at?" Hermione asked, handing her husband a drink. Absently, he trailed his fingers over her skin as he took it, his face softening as he did so. Swapping hands, he used the right to pull her closer and the left to point into the crowd.

"Mr Malfoy has found Ginny," he informed her, his husky voice low in her ear. She trembled slightly - she had always been attracted to her husband, but after that trip…

Theo's dark chuckle cut through her thoughts, and she followed his gaze to see an imperious Lucius Malfoy stood over his daughter-in-law, scowling ferociously. Ginny held her first child, a little boy named Scorpius, close to her chest as she faced off against the man.

"Oh, we should help her!" Hermione protested, but Theo held her back.

"She can hold her own," he reassured her, just as Ginny's voice rose high enough to be heard - the words 'bigotry' and 'contagious' drifted back to them, and Hermione snickered. Lucius's face had turned an interesting shade of purple.

Draco and Molly swooped in, seemingly out of nowhere; Molly deftly took the child while Draco steered Ginny away. Expecting her to leave, too, Hermione was shocked to watch Molly neatly deposit the newest Malfoy into the arms of the family's patriarch. Lucius goggled unattractively at the witch before a movement from the bundle in his arms drew his attention.

Watching the usually stoic wizard's icy demeanour melt for the child was uncomfortable enough that Hermione turned away, disliking the voyeuristic feel to her observation. Around the room, she noticed others who had been watching the drama do the same, and stifled a laugh. No-one wanted to be on Lucius Malfoy’s bad side.

When this turn placed her neatly in front of her father- and aunt-in-law, however, she immediately wished she'd stayed where she was.

"Papa," Theo greeted him coolly, his hand tightening on Hermione’s waist. "Aunt Poppy."

"So this is the little mudblood, is it?" Poppy Parkinson barked, peering down at Hermione through a pair of pretentious opera glasses. "Well, you're not too bad, I suppose. War heroine, eh?"

"Quiet, Poppy," Nott Sr snarled. "This is a mixed party."

Theo's hand tightened on Hermione’s waist, and she bit her lip to stem the verbal lashing that threatened to climb out of her throat. Theo, however, seemed to have no such restraint.

"Don't speak to her like that," he hissed, squaring his shoulders. "You have no right!"

Nott's eyebrow rose in amusement. "Don't I? It wasn't so very long ago that you also believed in the cause, son, or need I remind you…?"

"We all make mistakes," Hermione said lightly, curling her hand around Theo's arm.

Nott sneered at her. "Yes, don't we?" he retorted, pointedly looking between the pair of them. "The Ministry most of all, it seems. Must you bring her out in public, Theodore? It’s all very well having a pet, but you embarrass us in front of--"

"Granger!" Hermione swung her head around, grateful for the intervention. Draco Malfoy slid between them gracefully. "You promised me this dance," he smirked, a teasing light in his eye. To their older companions, he added, "I had to outbid Minister Shacklebolt for the pleasure. Hermione’s a better dancer than anyone I know." His eyes lingered on Mrs Parkinson for a moment, before turning back to Hermione. "Blaise gets the next one," he finished, loudly, as they took to the floor, leaving Theo with his family.

"Thank you," Hermione murmured.

Draco's eyes darkened as he looked over her shoulder. "It's a new world, Granger. We've all had to adjust. So should they."

As they twirled, Hermione spotted Pansy dancing with Ron, giggling as she lay her head n his shoulders, next to Dean and Daphne, who moved awkwardly to accommodate Daphne’s growing bump; a sight impossible to imagine five years ago.

"You're right," Hermione smiled. "It's a whole new world."

Hours later, as the party wound down, Hermione found herself once more wrapped in Theo's arms, swaying on the dance floor. His father watched disapprovingly from the side, but they ignored him.

"What was that quote you told me, after our first society party?" Theo murmured in her ear, spinning her into the dance and further away from his family. Hermione laughed, shaking her head.

“That was a _joke_ , Theo.”

“So what?” He pulled her imperceptibly closer, his lips tilting into a roguish grin. “I liked it. Tell me again.”

Hermione beamed at him, joy curling through her. "The best revenge is living well."

"Indeed, my love." He kissed her forehead affectionately. "It is, indeed."

* * *

 “What was the best thing you got out of the Law being passed?” one of her students asked, interrupting her reminiscing.

Hermione considered her answer carefully. “That’s quite the tricky question, Miss Malfoy, as I think I got fairly lucky with my draw. But, if I had to choose one thing, I think the best thing I got out of the arrangement was my two children.” Taking a breath, she continued on. “I don’t think I would have had children if it wasn’t for the Law being passed. When I was younger, being a mother never interested me, and now, I couldn’t even imagine ever _not_ being a mother. But without the Law, I honestly don’t think I would have considered having children.”

Hermione’s thoughts drifted to one of her favourite memories of their family.

* * *

Hermione winced, feeling the baby inside of her move. While this was her second pregnancy, this one was very different from her previous one.

“Are you alright?” Theo asked, noticing her discomfort.

“This little one is flipping over again,” Hermione said, rubbing her rather large bump. “She’s getting to be quite rambunctious.”

“Mummy, is the baby talking?” Thomas, their three-year-old asked, coming over. His eyes were wide with curiosity - a trait he had inherited from both of his parents.

Hermione smiled. “She’s doing something, love, come here, would you like to try and feel her move?”

Thomas’s eyes lit up in excitement. “Papa, help me up.” He lifted his little arms up towards Theo.

Chuckling, Theo picked up Thomas and placed him on the sofa next to Hermione.

“Look, place your hand here,” Hermione said, taking Thomas’s hand and placing it on her stomach in the place where she had just felt the little one move. She didn’t have to wait very long before she moved again, this time under her brother’s hand.

“Mummy!” Thomas squealed in delight. “I can feel her!”

Hermione looked at Thomas, tears pricking the corners of her eyes from the beauty of the moment. Her emotions were haywire this entire pregnancy, and it continued to look like that wouldn’t change.

“Mummy, she’s in there!” Thomas said, his excitement blatant. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

“Us too, Thomas,” Theo said, pressing a kiss to the top of Thomas’s head. Looking at Hermione, he smiled, both of them excited for the soon to be arrival of their little girl.

* * *

 In the distance bells chimed, breaking the silence cast over the classroom as the lecture drifted to a close. Outside, the sun had risen high, signalling midday and lunch, though no-one in the room was hungry, too enthralled were they with the past's romance. Each student was deep in thought on what they had heard; some giggled quietly, heaving wistful sighs as they wished for similar tales to claim as their own, while others determined to ask their own grandparents about their experiences. Hermione, seated once more, stared out the window, caught up in a past long since lived. Would she have all of this, she wondered, if not for that Law? She hated to ask - as a person, she always had been, and still was, vehemently opposed to it - but it bore considering. Would she have found love? Would she have achieved so much?

Their relationship had always had a competitive edge, even as it had been supportive. Theo drove her to greater heights of knowledge and passion combined, always had. If she'd married a Quidditch player, would she have written all of her books? If Theo had wed some society Miss, would he have been the most sought after curse breaker in the world?

Pointless questions when history had already been written, but an interesting mental challenge.

"Excuse me, Professor?"

Hermione blinked herself out of her trance, shocked when she noticed the clock on the wall. "My goodness - look at the time! You should head off to lunch while you have the chance; I have it on good authority that Herbology this afternoon will be gruelling."

"But, Professor!" One voice whined, amongst a cacophony of disappointed noises. "We want to know how it ends!"

Hermione laughed, gathering her own things. "You've not had enough of me yet? That's too long a tale, my dear; next time. For now, suffice to say…" she quirked a wry smile, the chaos that had been those last days before the blanket ban running through her mind. "We came to our senses.”

"Now, run along! I do have _other_ classes, you know!"

* * *

Hermione let out a tired sigh, taking a seat on the sofa. She leant back, resting her head against the back of the cushion. The rest of the day had been rather uneventful, but she was still reeling from her lecture earlier. Her back was aching, and she knew that she would need a long rest in the bath later that night.

“How did it go?” Theo asked, coming into the room. He smiled softly at her.

“Honestly, I think it went well,” she replied quietly. She cracked a smirk. “I even left most of them wanting for more by the end of it.”

Theo laughed. “Well done then.” Coming over, he kissed her softly as he took a seat on the sofa next to her.

Hermione snuggled into his side. “You know, it brought up a lot of memories today.” She looked at him. “The good, the bad… the ugly.”

“Do you regret anything?” Theo asked her, his voice quiet.

Hermione looked into his eyes and saw the love he held for her there. She saw the family they had grown and friendships that had developed because the Law was passed. Taking his hand and squeezing it tightly, Hermione gave him her answer, “Never.”


End file.
